


Change Of Heart

by veronicaluv



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-10
Updated: 2014-02-10
Packaged: 2018-01-11 20:07:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1177377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veronicaluv/pseuds/veronicaluv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danny takes a big step toward making Hawaii his home. Steve shows his approval in an unexpected way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Change Of Heart

**Author's Note:**

> My first H50 story, written about halfway through Season One. Danny is still in the first apartment.

He didn't mean to start a fight. Hell, he didn't even mean to start a conversation. It was McGarrett who kept poking his nose into Danny's business, making judgments and snide remarks and generally harassing Danny on the subject until he was this freaking close to putting his fist through the wall in frustration. Which wasn't necessarily an uncommon state for Danny since he'd partnered up with McGarrett, but usually that involved something on the job, not something related to Danny's personal life.

At first Danny hardly paid attention when Steve commented on his postage stamp-sized dump of an apartment. That seemed to be McGarrett's default subject of conversation whenever he happened to be there. But as the remarks became more pointed and McGarrett's tone more annoyed, it finally occurred to Danny that this was something that really bothered Steve—and for the life of him, Danny didn't know why.

Practically from the time they'd met, Steve had given him crap about it. Not that it didn't deserve it—he may have made excuses at the time but Danny really hated the place. Hated coming home to it alone, hated bringing Gracie there, too. Hated comparing it to the home he'd left behind on the mainland. Yet every time Steve opened his mouth with some damn comment about stains or cockroaches or what the hell ever, Danny heard himself defending the place. Saying black when McGarrett said white had been second nature from the moment they'd met, and this was no exception.

It was also a stupid thing to be thinking about as he waited outside the emergency room for Steve to get released.

But that's what kept going through his head, the argument they'd been having just before they got the call from the governor's office. This time they were having it at HQ, because Steve just couldn't let the subject drop after picking Danny up that morning. Kept bringing up the time he'd paid for Danny and Grace to spend time at that fancy hotel and how much Gracie enjoyed going to the beach or anything else that kept her out of the apartment—and despite being the truth, it annoyed the hell out of Danny that Steve had picked up on that. Danny should've seen the final blow coming and now, with his head bowed, unseeing gaze fixed on the linoleum floor of the waiting room and one arm wrapped around his aching ribs, he realized he should've admitted that Steve was right before it got that far.

And it wasn't like Steve out and out called him a bad father. No, the bastard was too smart for that and besides, even Danny knew that's not what Steve meant. Still, it hadn't stopped him from implying that Danny was somehow cheating Grace out of some measure of happiness, simply because Danny lived out of boxes in a craphole apartment. About that time Kono and Chin were heading for higher ground, no doubt warned off by the steam coming out of Danny's ears, but before Danny could tell Steve where he could shove his theories about fatherhood, the phone had rung and they'd been called to help out on a federal drug bust.

Rising slowly from the plastic waiting room chair, Danny winced as the ache in his side ratcheted up a notch, then let out a breath when his knee didn't so much as twinge. As much as it bugged him that Steve was right, it bugged him more how much it mattered to him that Steve believed he was a good father, that he trusted that Danny would do anything for Grace's happiness. What he didn't want Steve to know was a truth he'd kept to himself—that Danny was holding on to those boxes and that apartment because if he moved, if he unpacked the stuff of his life, that meant he was finally giving in to the reality that Hawaii wasn't temporary. Like it or not—and he didn't—it was home.

And damn if it hadn't started to feel a lot more like home since he'd joined up with McGarrett's task force.

Yeah, that wasn't a line of thought he wanted to follow any time soon. He paced over to the window and stared out at the parking lot, pulling at the loosened knot of his tie and scowling out into the harsh afternoon sunlight. They were to hell and gone from Honolulu but Steve had insisted that this pissant little clinic was good enough for him, so he'd ordered Chin and Kono to head back home and start the paperwork. With any luck, they'd all meet up in the next few hours and Danny could maybe, just maybe, take a step toward accepting that reality.

But first they had to get past this trip to the ER, a trip they almost didn't make. Squinting as a shaft of light bounced off the hood of a passing car, Danny thought not for the first time that McGarrett was the most stubborn son of a bitch he'd ever met.

It wasn't until all the excitement was over that Danny had found out that a chunk had been sliced out of Steve's arm. He'd come around the wide door of the drug dealer's warehouse to meet up with the team after all the excitement was over to find McGarrett sitting on a table with a blood-soaked towel wrapped around his forearm, arguing with Kono.

"I said I don't need to go the ER." The accompanying death ray glare had no effect on Kono, who crossed her arms and rocked back on her heels.

"Yeah, boss, you do. That blade caught muscle. You want it to heal right, you need stitches."

Danny shook his head as Steve changed tactics, because he knew exactly what was coming next.

"Listen, Kono, I appreciate the concern," Steve was saying with that half grin of his, all sincere and charming, "it's just a scratch, really. Get a first aid kit—"

"I got this." Danny patted her shoulder, then jerked his thumb toward the door of the warehouse. "S'okay, I'll get him there."

Kono nodded at him, silently handing over the problem with a roll of her eyes before leaving them alone.

"Okay, chief, you heard her. Either I take you in or I call for a bus. Your choice."

Steve lowered his eyes to the bloody towel. "Third choice, none of the above, you drive us back to HQ and I get a Band-Aid. This isn't that big a deal."

Danny heaved a melodramatic sigh and parked his butt beside Steve's on the table, twisting his hips to relieve the pressure on his ribs. He'd taken a two-by-four to his midsection that just now was making itself known and he knew he'd be sore as hell later.

"Look, I get it," he confided, "You're a badass. I know you're a badass. You know you're a badass. By now the whole damn state knows Steve McGarrett is a badass mofo or whatever they call it around here. But, see, here's the thing. You can be a badass all day if you want, but you're also a leader, and a leader knows when it's okay to not be a badass and to get his fuckin' arm stitched before he bleeds out and makes his partner do all his paperwork on account of him being dead."

"Oh, yeah, that's—that's great." Danny looked over to see Steve scowling at him. "I'm bleeding to death here and that's all you're concerned about? Paperwork?"

"Oh, right, so now, you're dying, No, since you obviously weren't listening, let me point out that I'm trying to help you with a possible image problem. See, what would you say if it was Kono sitting here with a knife wound in her arm? Or Chin?"

"I'd—"

"I'll tell you what you'd say, you'd be all worried and concerned and stuff and you'd make them go to the hospital. Hell, you'd probably take them and sew them up yourself, because you're a control freak like that. But you don't go like a good boy right now, they're gonna think they always gotta be as tough as you and since you've made it abundantly clear that no one is as tough as you, what you have here is a no-win scenario. You see what I'm saying?"

Steve opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. "Anyone ever tell you," he muttered, "that you're a manipulative bastard with a twisted sense of logic?"

"My mom writes it in my Christmas card every year, but she loves me anyway." Danny slid off the table. "Now, we goin' or what?"

Steve nodded, grimacing as he stood up. "There's a clinic about three miles from here, we can go there. You're driving."

"Yeah, ya think?"

"Hey." Steve stopped him with a nudge of his elbow against Danny's shoulder. "What do you think I'd've said if it was you who'd been cut and needed a doctor?"

"Me? Aw, that's easy," Danny answered with a shrug. "You'd say suck it up, Danno—Danno, right, 'cause you know I hate it—and then you'd say something like aw, you been hurt worse standing in the beer line at a Yankees game, something like that. Am I right?"

"Jesus, Danny." Steve shook his head, eyes dead serious. "That's not what I would've said at all." He looked away, hooded gaze distant. "You're not even close."

And then Steve had stalked out to the car, leaving Danny to follow him, with no idea why that conversation ended the way it did.

~~~

After Steve got stitched up, they drove back to Honolulu, bickering over nothing in particular, but just out of sync enough for Danny to know that Steve was preoccupied with something. Kono and Chin were already at HQ, and they spent a couple of hours wrapping up the reports from the morning's bust. It was Friday afternoon and unless something big went down it was supposed to be a free weekend for all of them. And knowing that, knowing that unlike him, these people probably had social plans, Danny almost lost his courage to ask what he wanted to ask by the time they all gathered in the computer room for a quick post mortem, but with the vision of Gracie's eyes lighting up fixed firmly in his head, he cleared his throat.

"Hey, uh, you guys," he began. Chin and Kono looked up from the computer screen they'd been sharing, while Steve planted his long legs and crossed his arms over his chest, giving Danny his complete attention. "Listen up, I got a—see, I got this, um, problem—"

"Problem?" Steve barked. "What kind of problem?"

Danny scratched his cheek, buying time as he tried to hide his reaction to Steve's immediate flip from interested to concerned. "Nothing serious, all right? I just have this thing, and I was wondering—"

He was interrupted by the ring of Steve's cell phone. Steve plucked it out of his pocket with one hand and held up his other in the universal sign of "hold that thought." Danny glanced over at the other two, who'd used the interruption to go back to what looked like a map on the screen, talking just loud enough for Danny to hear that they were making plans to meet up somewhere, and the friend inside him hoped it was a happy family kinda thing, for Chin's sake. The selfish guy who needed their help only saw his own opportunity slipping away.

Of course these people had lives, of course they had friends and family outside of these bullet-proof, plexiglass walls. He was the outsider here, not them, and while he knew they'd help him if he asked for it, they'd have to cancel their own plans to do so.

That was confirmed when Danny realized that Steve was talking to Catherine, his lieutenant-with-benefits. And as soon as he heard that the lieutenant was in the building and Steve was inviting her up to see HQ, his heart sank. No way could he say what he was going to say, not now. But damn it, for Gracie, he could swallow his pride.

The call ended and Steve turned back to him. "Sorry about that, man. What's up?"

Danny glanced over to see Chin and Kono looking back at him, both of them open and receptive in a way that he just wasn't used to. They looked at him, really looked at him, eye contact and everything, and seemed to think he was all right. And Steve—Jesus, it was like the guy could see right through him. This time, it wasn't aneurysm face or even constipation face. It was his "I'm concentrating all my super powers on you, buddy" face, and it made Danny swallow hard because his throat had gone bone dry beneath the force of that all-seeing gaze.

He opened his mouth, thinking he'd give it one last shot, but then he could hear the elevator doors swooshing open and he knew his window had just slammed shut. Jerking his chin toward the door, he gave Steve a tight grin.

"You got company."

What he expected Steve to do was execute a three point turn and leave with a shit-eating grin on his face, like any guy about to meet up with a beautiful woman. Instead, Steve's eyes didn't leave Danny's face, narrowing with worry even as the click-clack of the lieutenant's heels could be heard getting closer and closer.

"What is it, partner?" he said, his voice so soft that it knocked Danny a little sideways. In fact, Steve's entire attitude was damn close to intimate, as if he'd forgotten—or just didn't care—that Chin and Kono were less than five feet away. Maybe another time, another place, maybe just the two of them, Danny could find a way to respond to that tone—but not here, not with a drop-dead gorgeous brunette making her way over to Steve's side, looking damn fine in what only could be called a date outfit.

And still Steve didn't move, his very stillness forcing Danny to pay attention to more than the favor he was trying to ask. Steve's eyes looked away for a mere second, then locked with his in a moment of such transparency that suddenly everything clicked in Danny's head. All the bickering, the touching. The fierce emotions Steve could bring up in him with nothing more than a glance. The constant need to check in, even if it was only to give each other grief about something. Hell, the _nickname_ he said he hated but secretly kinda didn't. It'd been there, right in front of him all along, practically since day one.

Between one beat of his heart and the next, Danny's world went from upside down to right side up, but it was a world without reference points, and nothing he could anchor himself to except the unexpected truth he found in Steve's eyes.

The moment stretched out. Steve was still staring at him as if spellbound by whatever it was Danny had to say, and suddenly Danny knew that he had the power make or break Steve's night with one word. It was an exhilarating feeling, like a burst of adrenaline that ran straight through his heart, up through the top of his skull and down the back of his legs, pulling his imagination in a direction that he'd never allowed it to go. He didn't do that, _he didn't go there_ , yet something in that steel-eyed gaze was telling him maybe he could. Maybe he _should_. Maybe, that gaze was saying, maybe he could trust Steve with more than his life.

But it was hard, it was too damn hard, with Lt. Gorgeous standing next to Steve, completing the world's most perfect boxed set of genetically blessed human beings. So, instead, Danny shoved away the crazy thoughts and shrugged, throwing an apologetic glance toward Kono and Chin.

"Later," he mumbled in their general direction, then turned to the new arrival. "Lt. Rollins, thanks for your help on that kidnapping case. McGarrett couldn't have done it without you. Trust me, I know, I was there. He was helpless, so embarrassing." He nudged Steve with his elbow. "Mind your manners, introduce everybody."

Steve's concentration finally broke and he threw a quick scowl at Danny. "Catherine, meet Danno Williams. Danno, Lt. Catherine Rollins."

Danny held out his hand. "Yeah, uh, it's Danny, thank you very much, and it's nice to meet you, Lieutenant."

"You, too," she said with a smile as they shook, "and please, call me Catherine."

"You got it." He let go of her hand and stepped aside so Steve could complete the introductions. After that, it was pretty easy to lay back and let nature take its course, which included a tour of the facility for the lieutenant and an unnoticed exit by Danny.

~~~

He picked up another load of flattened boxes on his way home. When he'd moved to Hawaii he'd thrown, literally tossed everything he owned into boxes and had them shipped out to a storage facility recommended by his new employer, the Honolulu Police Department. Once he'd found a place to live, he had the boxes delivered and that was as far as he'd gotten. Aside from the stuff he needed day to day—clothes, shoes, notebooks from his Jersey cases, some framed pictures of Grace—everything else stayed packed up, the boxes themselves used as supplemental furniture. Almost nine months later, exposure to the moist salt air had left the cardboard in bad shape, and Danny knew he had to face what was in those boxes, to decide what he was going to keep in this new life, and let the rest go.

After leaning the unfolded boxes against the wall next to the front door, he changed out of his work clothes into a pair of faded blue board shorts—his only shorts, never to be worn in public—and an old Giants tearaway that he'd clipped the sleeves out of years before. The TV that came with the apartment didn't have cable and only received three channels, but he liked the noise, so he turned it on and turned the sound down low, then he settled on the floor with a bottle of water, took out his pocket knife, and sliced open the tape of the first box.

Two hours later, he lifted his head and blinked. The apartment, never bright at the best of times, had darkened considerably with the passing of a late afternoon storm. His stomach muscles were stiff and his eyes were tired, but beyond that, he knew now why he'd been putting off this particular chore. Sifting through this stuff, pieces from his past, just brought it all home how much he'd lost. And up until recently, he thought the only thing he had left in his life to make it worthwhile was his daughter. Now that had changed, and he sure the hell didn't know what do with it.

Because up until this afternoon, he just couldn't figure out a way to explain to himself why he'd agreed to stay on with the task force. Yeah, sure, McGarrett had told him he had no choice, but that was in the middle of the investigation of his father's murder, and Danny figured he knew Steve well enough by now that if he really wanted out, really, truly, cross his heart wanted to go back to being that crazy mainlander detective who refused to learn the lingo or wear an aloha shirt to work, Steve would've let him go.

But then Steve would also have been disappointed in him, and as much as it killed him to admit it, disappointing Steve McGarrett just wasn't on Danny's to-do list anymore.

He could tell himself it was because he'd landed the job of his dreams, one that came with high profile cases, lots of first class tech, and a blessed lack of red tape. He could also tell himself he had a great squad—Chin was a classy, straight up guy with a mean right hook, and Kono had police work in her DNA and instincts it took most cops years to develop. As for Steve—sure he was a mad man when he got behind the wheel of any motorized vehicle and he took chances that made Danny's blood run cold, but Danny would back him up—back any of them up—with everything he had, and had no doubt that they would do the same for him.

But now he could admit to himself that there'd been a more personal reason to stay all along. He could admit it, but he sure as hell didn't know what to do about it.

Looking around, he felt his mood sink lower. Instead of making progress, all he'd made was a mess of half-forgotten memories and crap that never should have made the trip west. Plus his stomach was starting to grumble which meant getting up, finding his shoes, and visiting any one of the eight fast food places in the vicinity he'd come to know so well. Struggling to his feet, he winced as his bruised stomach muscles protested, then jumped when he heard a fist pounding on his front door.

After an instinctive glance at his weapon sitting on the table next to his phone and ID, he looked up to see McGarrett standing on the other side of the door, the white bandage on his arm clearly visible through the dirty glass window.

"Oh, my God," Danny muttered. He opened the door, pinning a scowl on his face so that Steve wouldn't know what exactly this surprise visit was doing to Danny's insides. "What are you doing here?"

Steve ignored him, bending over to hoist up a large ice chest and push past Danny into the apartment.

"Okay, this time I'll ask nice. What the _hell_ are you doing here?"

Steve set the ice chest down on the sofa bed that for once Danny had taken the time to fold up, since he needed the room to spread out his stuff. He turned the latch and lifted the lid, pulling out two bottles of beer and holding one out for Danny.

"Brought dinner. You got anything like a clean plate around here?"

"What do you mean, you brought dinner?" Danny took the bottle and unscrewed the cap, tossing it aside before trading the bottle back to Steve for an unopened one. "I mean—you, the real you, you're on a date. You're in some fancy restaurant with a beautiful woman, eating fancy food and later on, you're gonna have fancy sex. This," he waved his hand up and down Steve's frame, "is a pod person. Why is a pod person in my home?"

Steve grinned at him. "Pods are the least of your worries in this rat trap. Now, about those plates."

"No way. No way, not 'til you tell me what's going on."

Reaching up to tug at his ear, Steve paused, looking down at his shoes. It was one of the rare times that Danny had seen him hesitate about anything, and that little moment told him a lot without really telling him anything at all.

"You don't have Gracie this weekend."

It was a statement of fact, not a question. "Yeah, she had a friend thing, some overnight trip to the big island. I tried to convince Rachel to let me swap out some time later in the month since she got to chaperone instead of me, not that I'm bitter, right? But—surprise, surprise—she refused, so I since I was already losing what little precious time I have with my daughter, I decided it was a good opportunity to maybe go through a few things."

Steve looked around at the mess. "How's it goin'?"

"Not so—hey, quit distracting me, let's get back to why a pod person brought me dinner."

A light flush spread across Steve's tanned cheekbones as he leaned over to rummage in the chest. "I was worried about you."

"You? Were worried about me? You don't worry about me when I'm getting shot at or beat up or walking around with a frickin' cane or anything else on the job. Why you gotta worry about me when I'm safe in my own home?" And, more importantly, why the hell did Danny's stomach feel funny at the idea of Steve giving his well-being that much thought?

Steve whirled to face Danny. "First of all," he said between clenched teeth, "the hell I don't worry about you on the job. But you're a professional and I trust you to keep yourself safe and not take stupid chances. Second, you were acting weird after we got back from the warehouse bust, like you had something important you wanted to say, but then you ran out before I could circle back with you."

Looking at it that way, Danny felt himself back down a little. Deep inside, he was well aware that Steve was already fiercely protective of his new squad, had even gone so far as to call them all family, and Danny wasn't delusional enough to think that he wasn't a charter member of that very exclusive club.

"Yeah, okay," he said, "I'll give you that one. Still, I don't think it rates dinner and canceling your date with Catherine because you're worried about something that could've waited 'til Monday."

"I didn't cancel a date with Catherine, because I didn't have a date with Catherine." Steve paused until he had Danny's full attention. "But I would've, and just so we're clear on this, she's a friend, she's not family. Here." He handed over a warm, sealed Tupperware bowl. "Find some place to put that."

A little stunned by Steve's almost angry declaration, Danny stared down at the bowl in his hands. "What is it?"

"Risotto."

"Risotto? Oh, my God, I love risotto."

"Yeah, I know. What about those plates?"

Danny blinked, then moved toward the tiny kitchen that held the bare necessities which, lucky for him, included plates and cutlery. He couldn't deny the grumbling going off in his midsection, any more than he could ignore the little fireworks show going off in his head because what had started out as a very bleak night had just taken a significant upturn.

"Hey." He balanced the plates on the arm of the sofa, then set the forks on top of them. "How'd you know I liked risotto?"

"Gracie told me."

"Grace? My Gracie told you I liked risotto? When?"

Steve didn't pause as he pulled out more foil-covered objects to set them on the sofa. "She told me when I called her. She called it cheesy rice, but I figured out what she meant. That's how I found out about the trip. Here, take this."

Danny held up the foil covered, triangular object Steve had just tossed him. "What is it?"

"Parmesan. I got a grater in here, too. Somewhere."

"So, wait, let me get this straight. You had a conversation with my daughter, some time today, and found out that I liked risotto and that she was away for the weekend."

"Yeah, pretty much." Steve frowned at him. "You got a problem with that? Your ex was okay after I identified myself and Gracie vouched for me."

Danny opened his mouth, then closed it before answering. "Believe it or not, no, I have no problem with that at all. In fact, you're one of maybe four people on this island besides me and Rachel that I'm okay with calling my daughter."

"Yeah? Who are the other three?"

"C'mon, isn't it obvious?' Danny ticked the names off his fingers. "Chin, Kono, and in a pinch, our good buddy and resident shakedown artist, Shamu."

"Yeah?" The corner of Steve's mouth quirked upward. "Why Kamekona?"

"You kiddin' me? In twenty or thirty years when Gracie is ready to date, he'll make a great chaperone, so she may as well get used to him now. But listen, the question still remains—why did you call Grace?"

Steve shrugged. "I told you, I was worried about you. I called Gracie to try and find out if there was something going on I should know about."

"Yeah, like what?"

"I don't know, like maybe Rachel was making noises about custody again, something like that."

"Seriously, tell me you did not talk to my daughter about custody—"

"Calm down, I didn't say anything like that. I asked how she was doing in school and then what the two of you had planned for the weekend. Then she told me about the trip and I asked her what you liked to eat and that was it, end of story. I just wanted to make sure she was okay and if she was okay, then you were probably okay. So, are you okay? Knee's not giving you trouble, is it?"

"No, knee's good."

"So tell me, what was it?"

"What was what?"

Steve raised his eyes to ceiling in frustration. "You. Today. Acting squirrelly. You wanted to say something and got interrupted."

Danny set aside the cheese and turned away, resting his hands low on his hips. This was a hell of a lot harder to say when it was just the two of them and, if he had to be totally honest with himself, now he knew why, too. "Got a new place," he mumbled.

Steve took a step closer. "Sorry, what?"

"A new place," he repeated more loudly. "You were right, okay? There, I admit it, you were right. This place is a like a cheap motel and my daughter deserves better. So I rented an apartment that's closer to her school, has access to a nice pool, and, if you squint hard enough and tilt your head just right, could almost be considered beachfront property."

Whatever reaction he expected from Steve, a slowly widening grin wasn't on the list. In fact, he looked like Christmas had just arrived early, but even as Steve visibly relaxed, Danny felt the bands around his chest tighten. A happy Steve McGarrett was an unknown quantity, at least here in Danny's little apartment with the aroma of cheese and garlic beginning to scent the air.

"Danny, that's great, man, fantastic," Steve said. "So what was the problem?"

"It wasn't a problem, it was a favor. I was gonna ask you guys if you'd maybe help move some boxes tomorrow, then I'd, you know, buy dinner, even if it's that nasty-ass pizza." He shrugged and picked up the parmesan, tossing it from hand to hand. "But everyone was busy,"—he slanted a glance toward Steve—"or planning on getting busy, so I figured, you know, maybe another time. Or I could just do it myself, there's not that much."

Steve dropped his head into his palm, then scrubbed his fingers down his face and neck. "You're an idiot, you know that? Hang on."

Danny watched as Steve pulled his phone out of his pocket, pressed a number, and lifted the phone to his ear.

"Wait, what are you—"

Steve held up a finger. "Hey, Chin, Danno needs help moving to a new place. Yeah, meet us here tomorrow, say around noon? Nah, forget that, make it two so Kono can get her rides in. When you call her, tell her he's buying dinner at Duke's. Yeah, I know it's for tourists, Danny'll feel right at home. Thanks, man, see you tomorrow."

As soon Steve hung up, Danny was on him. "What did you do that for? You didn't have to order them to help me—"

"I wasn't ordering them, Danny, this is how things are done here. You need help, they help you, no questions asked. Some day they'll need help and you'll give it to them, same thing. Right?"

"Yeah, of course, but still—"

"Give it a rest, partner, it's a done deal. Now we gonna eat or what?"

"Uh, yeah, sure." Danny looked around his apartment like it was suddenly alien territory. Nothing looked familiar, not with Steve moving like a stealth ninja around the boxes and piles of papers, trying to find flat surfaces for the boatload of food he'd brought. When Steve's hand brushed his as he reached to grab the plates, that was when Danny felt his world was getting a little too small to hold him and Steve and the _thing_ that was happening between them.

"Know what?" he said.

"What?"

"Pack it up." Danny reached for the bowl of risotto and handed it back to Steve. "Let's take this cheesy rice on the road."

Steve's eyes lit up. "Yeah? Where to? I know this beach, real private—"

"Nope, no beach."

"Why not?" Steve's gaze roamed lazily down Danny's body. "You're dressed for it, for once."

Fighting a sudden inability to breathe, Danny cleared his throat. "Because I, uh, I have somewhere specific in mind."

"Okay, where?"

"My new place. C'mon."

~~~

"Oh, yeah, this is a huge improvement."

Danny pushed past Steve and set the bag he was carrying on the small island that separated the kitchen from the living area. Flipping on the overhead kitchen light, he stole a glance at Steve's face, since this was one of those rare times when he couldn't tell by that dry delivery whether or not Steve was teasing him.

Steve was actually looking pretty happy, even though there wasn't much to see with none of Danny's personal items moved in. The kitchen and living area were one big room, with a sliding glass door opening onto a tiny lanai overshadowed by the extended roof line of the house above them and enclosed by overgrown bougainvillea. Down a short hallway were two bedrooms and a full bath, and the whole place was stocked with nondescript but serviceable furniture.

"Yeah, it's okay," Danny replied. "Lady who lives in the main house upstairs used to rent it out to tourists but says she got tired of the wear and tear. Seems renting to a fine, upstanding young man with a promising career in law enforcement appealed to her."

"Sure that's not all that appealed to her?"

There it was again, the low voice, the sideways look, the crooked smile. Steve was throwing off signals that had Danny more confused than ever, because not two hours ago, he was having crazy feelings about his partner that he knew—he thought he knew—had no chance of being reciprocated. But either there really was a pod person masquerading as Steve McGarrett wandering around his new apartment, or Danny had to accept that there was a chance that this partnership could be a hell of a lot more than professional.

"So what's say we eat, huh?" Ignoring Steve's knowing smirk, Danny delved into the bag and pulled out the plates and cutlery he'd brought from the old place. They worked silently for a few minutes, setting up an assembly line of the food Steve unpacked from the ice chest he'd hauled inside. Along with the risotto was a plate of antipasto, a green salad, several sausages wrapped in foil, and four more bottles of beer, two of which Steve placed in the empty refrigerator.

Once everything was out, Danny took a step back and surveyed the feast. "This sure beats the hell out of another Spam burger, that's for sure. Should've figured you'd be a gourmet cook."

"I'm not. My dad had an Italian housekeeper, Mrs. Stewart. When Gracie told me you liked risotto, I called her up and asked her to throw something together."

"Wow. Guess it's a good thing Grace didn't decide my favorite food was Hungarian."

Steve shrugged. "Little Budapest on Alakea does a great chicken paprikash. Unless, of course, you have specific rules about chicken like you do about pizza."

"Yeah, I probably do, but I don't want to overwhelm you with my culinary expertise."

"Danny, you are so full of crap—"

"Yeah, but you love me anyway."

The words slipped out before Danny could prevent them. A thousand times he'd have said something smartass like that before and not think twice about it, but this time, the trite phrase had a whole new meaning. He covered up his confusion by picking up a plate and shoving it blindly in Steve's direction, hoping Steve wouldn't catch his verbal slip and call him on it.

But it was too late. Steve grabbed the plate from him and tossed it aside, taking a step closer to Danny and with that one step, he ignited a tension in the room that had been smoldering since the day they'd met.

"You know, you pissed me off today."

Given the predatory look in those hazel eyes, it wasn't exactly what Danny expected him to say, but Steve's body language was saying something that Danny understood very well.

"Just once?" Danny took a step back. Not a retreat, he told himself. A strategic maneuver. "Must be off my game. What offended your tender sensibilities this time?"

"My what?" Steve took another step in Danny's direction, crowding him toward the wall. There was no menace in his movement, but there was definitely danger of another kind.

"Oh, sorry, I forget, you're a big, bad SEAL, they probably don't do tender, not with all that tough love you're always dishing out. Allow me to rephrase—what innocuous, perfectly innocent thing did I do to you today to make you want to kill me and feed me to the pelicans?" He knew he was babbling, saying anything to get a grip on a situation that was rapidly escalating beyond his control.

Steve leaned in closer, the scents of sea and sun pouring off his skin and clouding Danny's senses. "That crack about not caring if you got hurt."

"What?" Danny rubbed his forehead. "I have no idea what you're talking about. Can we just eat now? Please?"

"No, listen, when you were doing that whole spiel about what I'd do if Kono or Chin got hurt. You made it sound like I wouldn't give a fuck if it was you who'd been cut. That's when I realized that you may be the most oblivious man on the island. No, no, make that the _planet_."

"Me? I'm oblivious?"

"Yeah, you."

"Okay." Danny glanced away, aware that he was about to purposely provoke Steve, yet unable to stop. He had to see how this was going to end, he had to be sure that he and Steve were on the same page. "Tell me, o wise one, why am I oblivious."

"Sure." Steve held up one finger in front of Danny's nose. "First, for a guy who thinks he's so damned sharp, you had no clue that Toast had more interest in _your_ lollipop than in the entire bag we gave him."

"My what?"

"You know what I mean."

"My—nah, no way, Toast, he's just a—"

"Guy who was scoping you up one side and down the other and picturing you naked and spread-eagled on a mattress somewhere, yeah."

Danny had to swallow twice before responding, since the words "naked" and "spread-eagled" coming out of _that_ mouth in _that_ tone were scrambling what few brain cells he still had functioning. "You can't be—"

"Two." Steve extended another finger. "That night at the club? When we were looking for the jerk with the roofies? You remember?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Yeah, remember those two girls who were—what did you call it? Eye humping me?"

Danny leaned away from the wall, trying to get some room, but was prevented when Steve's arm shot out to bar his escape. "Is there a point to this story?"

"Yeah, the point is that it wasn't just me they were flirting with. If you'd been paying attention instead of being so jealous about me getting laid—"

"I wasn't—I'm not!" But fuck, he was, after all. _Fuck_.

"And, three," Steve dropped his arm and grabbed a handful of Danny's jersey, pushing in closer until they were chest to chest, Danny wedged between the counter and the wall. "I've done everything but throw a damn parade down Ala Moana Boulevard to show you how I feel about you."

"Feel?" The bottom dropped out of Danny's stomach. If Steve had feelings like he had feelings, then all the insane thoughts he'd been experiencing—for weeks now, to be honest—weren't insane after all. That meant Danny was finally free to let go of the tight grip he'd held on emotions he'd been fighting to keep under control.

But not yet.

"Yeah, Danny, feel." Steve let go of Danny's shirt, settling both hands low on Danny's hips, a frown between his eyes. "You've been around me long enough by now to know that I mean what I say and when I say I have feelings for you, I'm not saying that to mess with your head or get you in the sack. I'm saying that because I want you to know I'm not interested in a one night stand or an easy fuck once in a while. No games, no screwing around." He paused, then leaned his forehead against Danny's. "Just give this—give _me_ —a chance, all right? That's all I'm asking."

"Well, now." Danny ran his tongue along his lower lip. It wasn't lost on him that Steve had just given him all the power over where they were going from here, and if he hadn't already been head over heels for the crazy bastard, that would've sealed the deal. "Allow me to point out that you haven't done _everything_ yet. You call me oblivious and yet here I am, still talking—"

Steve's head jerked back and all Danny got was a glimpse of narrowed eyes before Steve pressed his mouth to Danny's, taking it in a deep kiss that managed to be angry, demanding, and gentle at the same time. No easy introduction, no testing the waters, Steve swept his tongue inside Danny's mouth with the ownership of a man staking a claim, then gentled it almost instantly, infusing it with unexpected tenderness. Like everything else Steve McGarrett did, he kissed with focus and intent and more than a little recklessness, leaving Danny in no doubt that Steve wanted this. Wanted _him_.

And Danny was kissing him right back, not fighting for dominance but meeting him move for move, slanting his mouth to Steve's, clutching at Steve's waist to guide him between his parted legs. Even as his own hands were traveling up Steve's muscled back beneath his t-shirt, he could feel Steve's fingers delving beneath the waistband of his shorts, probing for the string that kept them tight against his hips.

Steve lifted his head and they stared at each other, both men breathing hard. Danny was searching for something to say but Steve had found the ends of the string and was slowly pulling them apart, so the connection between Danny's mouth and his brain had derailed. Whatever Steve saw in Danny's face, it made him smile, one of those slow smiles that told Danny something was percolating inside that brain of his.

Something really good.

"What?" he muttered. "What's with that look?"

Steve's grin widened. "What look is it this time?"

"I dunno," Danny whispered, "but this one, I think I like. I think I like it a lot."

"Oh, you'll like it." With one swift move, Steve reversed their positions until his back was against the counter, pulling Danny flush against his body for another searing kiss. "Toast isn't the only one who's been imagining you naked and spread-eagled on his bed."

Danny's eyes rolled back as Steve peeled the edge of his jersey away from his throat. "So, a—God, yeah, that's good—so, a parade was your next move? Seriously?"

Sliding his mouth along Danny's jaw, Steve managed to nod his head. "Already looked into the permits," he muttered. "Had next Sunday on hold with the city." He pressed his open mouth to a patch of tender skin behind Danny's ear, then sucked lightly as his long fingers tugged at the loosened waistband of Danny's shorts, tugging them lower on his hips.

"Sunday, huh?" Danny's eyes fluttered closed. "Oh, Jesus, it's too damn hard to come up with a snappy retort when you do that."

"If you're thinking at all, then clearly I'm not doing it right." Steve raised his head and stared at him, a concentrated expression full of wicked intent that went straight to Danny's groin. "Guess I'll have to start over."

"Thorough, I like that," was all Danny managed before Steve's mouth descended on his once more. By some silent communication between them, they'd stopped tugging and pulling at each other's clothing, now content to hold and touch and stroke as they settled in to the reality that they could take their time and learn each other on this new, intimate level.

So it was a complete surprise when Steve pushed him away and stepped aside. Danny caught a glimpse of Steve's face and swallowed hard—he knew that expression, it was the face of man suddenly regretting doing something very foolish.

"What?" he croaked. His heart beating fast, his body still tied up in knots from those devastating kisses, he tried to tell himself it was better now if Steve came to his senses and walked away before things got too serious. Of course, as far as Danny was concerned, it was already too late. "You, uh, you done?"

"No, Danny, I'm not done, it's just—" Steve turned back to him, hands on his hips. "I just realized that I poured out my heart here and yeah, I know you're on board physically, but—I'm sorry, man, that's just not enough for me."

"Not enough?" Danny stared at him. What wasn't enough? _He_ wasn't enough? Then what the hell was Steve—

"Oh," he breathed. "I get it."

It wasn't hard to figure out. Steve had done all the emotional heavy lifting so far and was looking for something from Danny along the same lines. Fighting off his instinct to get good and pissed—at this point, it wouldn't do any good to point out the fact that he wouldn't be planning on getting naked with his boss if he wasn't fucking emotionally involved—he waited a beat, aware on every level that this was a place they hadn't been together. Steve was wide open and vulnerable in a way Danny had never seen, and the responsibility of that trust weighed heavily on Danny's shoulders. What he said now would make or break everything—their friendship, their partnership, and their future.

"Okay." Danny took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. "Listen to me, you—wait, hang on." He paused to retie the string of his shorts, then faced an amused but still worried Steve. "Sorry, hard to be dignified when your shorts are about to meet your ankles."

Steve inclined his head. "Understood."

"Good. Okay. Here's the deal." Danny clasped his hands together in an attempt to keep them still. "You make me crazier than anyone I've ever met. Not gonna lie, there's been a few times I just wanted to shoot you and save us both a lot of trouble. But," he continued, hands flying apart, "the thing about you? You never, not once, gave up on me. You may not agree with what I have to say—in fact, you usually don't—but you don't back down and you _listen_ to me."

Steve was looking confused. "Danny, that's great, I appreciate it, but that's what makes anyone a good partner. Doesn't mean—"

"Shut up, I wasn't finished. So then, see, here you are, God's gift, a Navy SEAL, no less—oh, yeah, how's the arm?"

"My arm is fine, would you just—"

"Did I say I was finished? Anyway, so you're this military machine who's got, like, the heart of a freakin' lion, scared of nothing, yet knows my custody schedule as well as I do, lets me put my daughter first when everybody's shooting at the game, and then uses his influence with the governor to make sure I keep my visitation rights. Did you not think, great detective that I am, that I would not notice these things?"

The pinched look around Steve's eyes was fading. "I was trying to be subtle."

"Right, subtle. Well, Mr. Subtle, it worked, all right? That's why I was so pissed at you about Meka—because all of a sudden, if there's one person in this entire world that I need to believe in me besides Grace, it's you. Somewhere, God knows when or how, you, uh—" His voice trailed off, hands falling to his side.

"I what, Danny?" Steve's voice was dangerously quiet, reminding Danny of how much was at stake.

"You became important to me." He took a step in Steve's direction. "No, more than important, more like, vital to my continued well-being and most probably any future happiness. You showing up at Amy's place after Meka's service, it just made me realize how much I—" He paused to clear his throat. "Anyway, I told you once that Gracie was my life, the only reason I stayed on this godforsaken rock in the middle of nowhere." He shrugged and attempted a smile. "Now I got two reasons."

The stunned look on Steve's face told him that he'd done it right. Danny reached up and wrapped his palm around Steve's neck, guiding him into a kiss far gentler than anything they'd shared so far.

"As an added bonus," he murmured against Steve's mouth, "you have this most ridiculous yet still awesome habit of taking off your shirt for no good reason at all."

Steve's hands were back on Danny's hips. "Who says I don't have a perfectly good reason?"

"You do? Like what?"

Steve pressed his mouth to Danny's ear. "Like enjoying the glassy look you get in your eyes every time I do it. You're not the only one in this partnership with great powers of deduction."

"Aw, man, that's brutal!"

Steve stole a quick kiss, then released him. "No, that's tactical. So here's what I think we should do."

"Wait, here's what you think we should do? Okay, forget Mr. Subtle, now you're Mr. Spontaneity?"

"No, I'm Mr. Practical, Mr. Smartass. We've got all this good food and I don't want to tell Mrs. Stewart that it went to waste. I say we eat out on that strip of concrete you call a lanai, then head back to your old apartment for your gear. We can spend the night at my place and then meet up with Kono and Chin tomorrow afternoon."

Danny nodded, even though he wanted to argue out of habit. "Sounds good. But hey, you know if you and I get an early start, we could probably get it done between the two of us. Why don't we—"

"No."

"No? What, no? No what?"

Steve stood at the counter, surveying the food like a general assessing a military strategy. "No, we're not going to start early. We're going to meet up with Kono and Chin as planned."

"Listen, don't be thinking that just because you're the boss when we're on the street—"

"Relax, I was just getting to the good part, the part about Mary staying with a friend in Kaneohe for the weekend and that means—"

"We got your place to ourselves. Nice. Okay, I'm down with your plan, but only because it's a good plan, not because it's your plan."

Steve was looking at him like he'd just sprouted wings or something and Danny took an odd kind of pride in the fact that despite this new and most welcome development in their relationship, he could still get that reaction. His satisfaction must've shown in his face, because Steve started frowning at him.

"You're such a pain the ass," Steve muttered.

"Whatever." Danny picked up a plate and reached for a spoon, nudging Steve aside to get to the risotto. "Kinda hoping it'd be the other way around our first time out of the gate, but hey, I'm flexible. As you will soon find out."

Steve dropped the fork in his hand, letting it land with a clatter on the counter. "Is that how you're gonna be? Saying stuff in the middle of a perfectly normal conversation that's gonna make me want to drag you off somewhere private?"

"Only when we're off duty, otherwise the state of Hawaii could be in serious trouble. I promise, my hand to God, I will be a saint when we're on the job. Off the job, all bets are off. Now, where'd you put the parm?"

~~~

Danny blinked his eyes against the darkness, instantly and easily oriented to his surroundings out of a deep sleep by the warm palm resting heavily on his lower back. His pillow long gone, he was face down on Steve's bed, his left arm dangling off the edge, his bare feet sticking out from the soft white sheet tangled around his legs. The bed was comfortably cool, with fresh air blowing through an open window, scenting the room with some kind of flower that for once didn't make him want to sneeze.

Not that he had the energy to sneeze or anything else. Making love with Steve all night had left him convinced that he would be unable to move any time soon. His muscles were warm and loose, his body lightly sheened with sweat, and while various parts of his body were aching, it was the good kind of ache that left him in no doubt that he'd been thoroughly and expertly loved.

The hand on his back slid over the swell of his ass, then began drifting upward, following a path Steve had explored with his mouth—and a fine attention to detail—a few hours earlier. Danny remained still, enjoying the sensation for what it was, the affectionate, proprietary caress of a new lover. When Steve's hand curved over his shoulder, he lifted his head enough to turn away from the wall and toward the center of the bed. As far as he could tell it was still the middle of the night, but there was enough moonlight coming in from the window for him to make out Steve lying on his side next to him, his arm curled beneath his head.

"Time is it?" Danny muttered, his eyes drifting shut.

"No idea."

Danny lifted his hand and twirled a finger near his temple. "Thought you military types kept a clock running in your head."

"Fine, I figure it's about fourteen hundred Zulu, does that help?"

"Yeah, not so much." Sliding his arms beneath him, Danny pushed up, gathering his legs beneath him until he was sitting upright on the bed. His eyes adjusting to the dim light, he looked down at Steve, who'd rolled onto his back, his arms stretched above him and the back of his head resting in his palms.

"You okay?" Danny asked. "I mean, you look okay. More than okay. Hell, right now you look like a porn star, but—"

"I'm good." Steve uncurled one arm to stroke his hand along Danny's thigh. "You?"

"Well, let's see. I got a good job, a new crib, my beautiful daughter is healthy and happy, and oh, yeah, the love of my life just got done loving the stuffing outta me for what, the third time? Yeah, 'good' doesn't really cover it."

The hand on his thigh stilled. Danny only had time to take a breath before Steve surged upright, cupping Danny's face between his palms and kissing him with such tender ferocity that Danny could only grab Steve's broad shoulders and hang on through the onslaught.

"Wow," Danny gasped as it ended, "I'd ask you where you learned to kiss like that but then you'd probably have to kill me."

Steve rested his head against Danny's shoulder, his soft laughter tickling Danny's skin. "Hey," he answered, his voice shaky, "I can't tell you all my secrets. Let me save some for later."

"Fair enough."

And it was. Danny had learned a lot about Steve McGarrett in the last twelve hours. Some things weren't a surprise, like the fact that Steve was a generous and skillful lover. But then with a body like his, it would've been a sin otherwise. What had been a surprise—a pleasant one—was that Steve was an equal opportunity cuddler. He didn't seem to care if he was doing the holding or the one being held, it was the touching that Steve seemed to crave. He wasn't vocal—which was fine, since Danny made enough noise for both of them—yet he managed to murmur the right thing at the right time, deepening and tightening the emotional bond between them to match the physical hunger they'd found for each other.

Danny pressed a kiss to Steve's forehead. "Okay, secret agent man, let's get comfortable."

It took some serious body contortions, but Danny managed to get them both horizontal on the bed without completely breaking contact. They ended up with Danny on his back and his head on a pillow retrieved from Steve's side of the bed. Steve's head was on Danny's shoulder, one long leg entwined with Danny's and his hand resting low on Danny's abdomen, just beneath the bruises he'd received at the drug bust.

"So." Danny stroked Steve's hair, his eyes fluttering shut. "Does fourteen hundred Zulu mean we can get some more shut eye?"

"Yeah, you got plenty of time. Sun's not coming up for hours yet."

"Me? What about you?"

"I'm not sleepy."

"But you're okay, right?"

"Danny." Steve's voice was full of amusement as he pressed his head deeper into the curve of Danny's neck. "I'm fine, I just don't want to sleep yet."

"If you're sure you're—"

"Listen, keep this up and the love of _my_ life is gonna be sleeping on the couch here in a minute. So shut up and go to sleep. We got a lot of work to do tomorrow."

"Yes, sir," Danny muttered around a yawn, "shutting up now, sir. Oh, and bite me on the ass, sir."

"What, again? Yeah, you can pretty much count on that happening on a regular basis."

Sleep tugging at his consciousness, Danny still managed a halfhearted scowl at the smug inflection in Steve's answer.

He'd moved to Hawaii with one idea in mind, to be near his daughter, no matter what the personal and professional cost, and to say he'd once hated it here was an understatement. Aside from Grace and the few friends he'd made on the force, his life here had been almost unbearably lonely.

Yet with the arrival of a brokenhearted avenging angel in the form of Steve McGarrett, everything had changed. Now Danny was able to do the work he was good at with people he loved like family and while he didn't get to see Grace nearly as often as he wanted, he was grateful for what time they had together, knowing how easily it could be taken away. And now he had more than he could possibly have asked for held close in his arms, keeping watch over him as he drifted deeper into sleep.

How it all happened he had yet to figure out, but as he'd once told Steve early in their relationship, he liked puzzles. As Steve burrowed closer, his arm wrapped possessively around Danny's midsection, Danny realized he'd been granted a lifetime with the man beside him to get it figured it out.

He couldn't ask for anything more than that—but he probably would. After all, Steve would expect nothing less.


End file.
